Читать книгу: «Squire», страница 2

I can’t turn on him, she thought. I can’t not be his friend, even if I can’t be his love. ‘Lord Raoul asked me to be his squire.’

Neal collapsed into a chair. ‘Raoul? I’ll be switched,’ he said, awed. ‘Lady Alanna told me you were looked after, but this? Gods all bless. Goldenlake the Giant Killer.’ He whistled. ‘This is very good. I love it. Not even the conservatives will question your right to a shield if he’s your master. He may be a progressive, but he’s still the most respected knight in Tortall. Even the ones who claim you’re magicked to succeed will have to shut up.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kel demanded. Sometimes Neal took forever to get to the point; sometimes, even when he got to it, the thing didn’t feel like a point at all. This was starting to feel like one of those times.

‘You’ll be in public view most of the time,’ Neal explained. ‘Not everyone you meet will be your friend, so they won’t lie for you, and some will have enough Gift of their own to tell if magic’s being worked on you. No one will be able to claim you did anything but what was under everybody’s nose after four years in the King’s Own.’

‘If I cared for their opinion, I’d be relieved,’ Kel informed her friend. ‘So you think this is good.’

He nodded vigorously. ‘I’m envious,’ he admitted. ‘Lord Raoul’s got to be the most easygoing man alive. My new knight-mistress is famed for wielding sharp edges – sword, knife, and tongue.’

Kel scratched her ear. She hadn’t considered the Lioness’s temper, though the realm’s sole female knight was infamous for it. ‘You’ll just have to get on with her,’ she said. She knew her words were silly as they left her mouth. Neal couldn’t just get on with anyone. He could no more resist poking at other people’s conceits or ideas than he could resist breathing.

‘I’ll manage,’ Neal said. ‘She and Father are friends, so she probably won’t kill me. Now,’ he went on, changing the subject, ‘why are you packing, if you have such a wonderful knight-master?’

‘I have to be ready to go with him at any time,’ she explained, sitting on her bed. ‘My room’s next to his. I don’t even know how often I’ll be in the palace – he’s on the road all year.’

‘We’ll see each other during the Grand Progress,’ Neal pointed out. ‘Unless – maybe you won’t … I know you wanted Lady Alanna.’

Kel had to make this better. ‘Not see you, when you won’t eat vegetables if I don’t nag you?’ she demanded. ‘I’ll bet Lady Alanna—’ Her throat tightened. Dreams died so hard, and this one she had kept for most of her life. ‘I’ll bet she doesn’t care what she eats, let alone what her squire does. I should send Crown along to peck you as a reminder.’

Neal’s answering grin was shaky, but it grew stronger. ‘As if these feather dusters would be separated from you,’ he retorted.

‘I hope they can,’ Kel told him. ‘I doubt even Lord Raoul will welcome fifty-odd sparrows.’

Neal slung his legs over the arm of the chair. ‘I bet he and Lady Alanna planned this. They’re friends, and she did say you were looked after. And she has to know what people would say if she took you.’

‘That maybe I was right to look up to her all these years? That if anyone can teach me how to be a lady knight, it’s her?’ Kel asked bitterly. She wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw the hurt in his face. Most times I can keep silent, she thought, folding a tunic with hands that shook. But the one time I say the first thing in my mind, it’s to Neal. I should have said that to anyone but him.

His eyes were shadowed. ‘You are angry.’

Kel sighed and straightened to work a cramp from her back. ‘Not with you.’ Never with you, she thought, wishing yet again that he liked her as a girl as well as a friend. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I feel. First I was just about as low as I could be – Neal, I had a vision.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘My dear Kel, I’d say Jump, your sparrows, even Peachblossom are likelier to have visions than you. I have never known anyone who had both feet nailed to the ground.’

She had to smile. He was right. ‘It didn’t come from me,’ she informed him. ‘I was in the Chapel of the Ordeal—’

‘Finally!’ he interrupted. ‘You took your own sweet time in going—’

It was Kel’s turn to interrupt. ‘Do you want to hear about my vision or not?’ She described what had happened when she touched the Chamber’s iron door. ‘And then I went to the tilting yard and Lord Raoul found me,’ she finished. ‘But Neal, it felt just as real as anything.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘Then here’s a word of advice – don’t touch the door again. That Chamber is a law to itself. No one knows how it works. It’s killed squires, Kel. Killed them, driven them mad—’

‘And left plenty to become knights,’ Kel pointed out before his imagination galloped away with him. ‘Like it will us.’ She refused to admit he’d raised goose bumps on her skin. I climbed down from Balor’s Needle, she thought, reminding herself of the day she’d finally lost her terror of heights. I can handle the Chamber of the Ordeal.

Remembering the realness of her vision, Kel shivered. She checked her hands to make sure there were no ink blotches on them, then picked up a shirt.

When Kel’s maid, Lalasa, returned from signing a lease for her dressmaker’s shop, she found Kel and Neal trying to fit Kel’s weapons-cleaning kit into a trunk that was nearly full. After shedding tears over the news – Lalasa was sentimental – she banished them, saying the palace staff would see to everything. There was nothing to do but go to lunch and share their tidings with their friends. They talked there until the second bell of the afternoon about where they all would go.

When Kel returned to her room, only her night-things remained. Everything else had gone to her new quarters, though she wasn’t to report for duty until noon the next day. ‘I like to sleep late when I can,’ Raoul had explained. ‘It’s not something I get to do often. Neither will you, so take my advice, and sleep in.’

Lalasa sat by the window, sewing basket open beside her, a wad of green cloth in her lap. A stack of neatly folded green clothes lay on a stool beside her.

‘I took the liberty of getting your new things from the quartermasters for the King’s Own, my lady,’ she said as Kel closed the door. ‘These are some of Lord Raoul’s spares – he gave word to use them – but grain sacks have a better fit.’ She clipped a thread and shook out the garment, a tunic in Goldenlake green bordered in yellow. Though Kel would ride with the Own, she served Raoul the knight, not the Knight Commander. ‘Try these, and the breeches,’ Lalasa ordered. She held out both. ‘I measured them against your clothes, but I want to double-check.’

Kel stripped off tunic and breeches and donned the new clothes. Something had changed her retiring Lalasa into this brisk young female. Kel suspected that Lalasa’s getting her shop and dress orders from Queen Thayet may have caused it. They had both changed since their long, frightening walk down the side of Balor’s Needle six weeks ago. Kel thought that Businesswoman Lalasa was a treat; she still wasn’t sure about Squire Keladry.

Lalasa gave the clothes a twitch and nodded. ‘Now these.’ Kel tried on two more sets of Goldenlake breeches and tunics while her maid pinned and straightened. Kel’s shirts, at least, would be the same white ones she’d worn as a page; it was one less piece of clothing to try on.

‘You’re not to take things to those sack stitchers at the palace tailors’,’ maid informed mistress. ‘They come straight to me, and not a penny will I take for the work.’ Her brown eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, my lady,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘Out with all those men, and just a dog and some little birds and that dreadful horse to look after you.’

Kel had to chuckle. ‘The animals look after me just fine,’ she said, offering the older girl her handkerchief. ‘And surely you’ll be too busy to work on my clothes.’

‘Never,’ Lalasa said firmly, and blew her nose. ‘Never, ever.’

Kel looked at the sparrows perched on her bed. ‘I need to talk to you, all who can come,’ she said. ‘Crown? Freckle? Will you get the others?’

The chief female and male of the flock that used to nest outside Kel’s window in the pages’ wing sped outside. The sparrows already in the room found perches. The rest of the flock soon arrived.

Kel shook her head. Even after four years she felt odd talking to them as she would to humans, but they understood far more than normal birds. Ever since Daine, known as the Wildmage, had come to the palace, her magical influence had changed every animal resident. Kel’s dog Jump had refused to live with Daine, and deliberately worked his way into Lord Wyldon’s good graces so the training master would let him roam with the pages. Peachblossom had negotiated his no-spur agreement with Kel through Daine. The sparrows had moved in with Kel, who’d been feeding them, with the first winter snows. In less than a year they were defending her and acting as scouts for a spidren-hunting party. They had even found Lalasa on Balor’s Needle and fetched Kel to help.

‘I mentioned this, remember,’ Kel told the flock. ‘I have to go with my knight-master. It’ll be hard to keep up. I don’t know how often we’ll be here. Do you want to leave your nesting grounds? Salma told me she’ll go on feeding you, so you won’t go hungry. You don’t have to stay with me. It’s not that I don’t love you all,’ she assured the fifty-odd birds. ‘But this isn’t practical.’ She stopped, seeing all those black button eyes fixed on her. They were dressed as soberly as merchants in brown and tan, the males black-capped and black-collared, but Kel knew they were far from sober. She had seen them in battle, their tiny claws and beaks red with the blood of her enemies, or riding gleefully on Jump’s back. Most had come to the flock as newborns, raised in the courtyard and introduced to Kel by their elders.

At last Kel sighed. ‘I can’t think of anything else. Either you understand me or you don’t.’

Crown, named for the pale spot on her head and her imperious ways, hopped to Kel’s shoulder. She chattered at the flock, looking from face to face as a human might. At last she uttered a series of trills. Most of the flock took to the air. They circled Kel like a feathered cyclone, then sped out the window. When Kel walked over to see where they had gone, they were settled in their home courtyard one storey below.

Kel turned to see five sparrows – three females, two males – land on Lalasa’s chair and sewing. The one-footed female named Peg settled on Lalasa’s shoulder with a peep. Lalasa smiled as she stroked Peg’s chest.

‘Who needs to talk?’ she asked, her voice wobbling. ‘I know what you mean. You are all welcome at my home.’

‘Peg fetched me the night Vinson grabbed you,’ Kel said. ‘I suppose she feels you belong to her now.’ She took Lalasa’s hand. ‘You are still part of Mindelan, too. If you need a voice at court, or help, or just a friend, I hope you will come to me.’

Lalasa wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I am still your maid, so it only makes sense that you bring me your clothes. I can never repay you for all you have done. I don’t even want to.’ She stood. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I need more green thread. You will sleep here tonight?’ Kel nodded. ‘Good. I should have the rest of these done by bedtime.’ She left before Kel could say anything.

‘These aren’t goodbyes,’ Kel told herself. ‘Just the next chapter in our lives.’ She looked at her bed to see who had stayed with her and Jump. Crown, the white-spotted male named Freckle, and ten other sparrows perched there.

‘You’ll come with me?’ she enquired.

Crown nodded.

‘Thank you,’ Kel told them. ‘I hope you like our new quarters. Do you want to see them?’

CHAPTER 2
THE KING’S OWN

Kel needed only a key to enter her quarters, no magic password. It seemed unlikely that anyone would maul her things and paint on her walls, as they had her first year, when the connecting door now led to Lord Raoul’s suite. Once inside, she looked around. This room, bigger than her squire’s and page’s quarters combined, boasted a desk, a bookcase, armour and weapons racks, and a map of Tortall over the desk. A dressing room with its attached privy was opposite the door that led to Lord Raoul’s rooms.

Her belongings were here. Lalasa had set Kel’s collection of Yamani waving cat figures on the mantel. Kel’s old books were beside those already in the case. Her clothespress, weapons, and all the things she exercised with were neatly arranged; her silk painting of two Yamanis duelling with glaives was hung. The bed had fresh sheets and pillows: Kel or Lalasa would bring her nightclothes and blankets in the morning. Even the birds’ and Jump’s dishes were there, filled and ready. The twelve sparrows flew to them instantly.

Looking around, Kel suddenly realized the connecting door was ajar. From inside Lord Raoul’s rooms she heard voices.

‘… isn’t decent. You know court gossips, Raoul. They’ll have you in bed with her before today is done!’

‘Now I’m confused, Flyn.’ That was Lord Raoul’s voice, slow and good-humoured. ‘I thought they’ve had me in bed with other men for years, since I’m not married.’

‘Not around me or the lads, they haven’t,’ was the growled reply. ‘We’ve explained it’s nobody’s business.’

‘Then explain the same thing about Kel and me, Flyn,’ Raoul said. ‘That’s easy enough.’

Flyn – she knew the name. Of course: Flyndan Whiteford, nominally in command of Third Company in the King’s Own, in reality second in command to Lord Raoul, who personally led it whenever possible. Kel had met Flyn three summers ago, during the spidren hunt at the end of her first year as a page.

‘Stop joking, Raoul,’ Flyndan replied. ‘I’ve served with you for fifteen years. I’ve a right to be heard.’

Raoul sighed. ‘You know I listen to you.’

‘Then be serious. The girl will have no reputation, and neither will you. The conservatives will be furious you picked her.’

‘So?’ Raoul asked. ‘They dislike me anyway, just for the changes I’ve made in the Own. How much more can they hate me because Kel’s my squire? And she’s had four years to think about her reputation.’

‘She’s fourteen – she can’t understand all the consequences,’ Flyndan grumbled. ‘As a noble she wouldn’t be thinking about marriage and babies for another couple of years.’

Raoul continued, still patient. ‘But as a commoner she might be married – and producing babies – right now. Stop fussing. She’s intelligent, and she’s steady. Some people always believe the worst.’

‘You only did it because Lady Alanna asked you to,’ snapped Flyndan.

Kel swallowed a gasp. Now she was really glad they didn’t know she was listening. She shouldn’t be. It wasn’t right. Educational, but not right.

There was a sigh in the next room. ‘Alanna mentioned it, but I’ve had Kel in mind since the spidren hunt. Everything I’ve heard just confirms that she’ll do well, given a chance. That’s what I’d like you to do, Flyn – give her a chance.’

Kel knew she had to leave or say she was there. Cat-quiet, she went to her door, then yanked it loudly shut. She walked into the centre of the room, saying, ‘Your food and water dishes are here—’

A man poked his head through the connecting door. He was in his early forties, blunt nosed, with the dark skin, hair, and eyes of a Bazhir. He wore a white cotton shirt and loose dark green breeches, casual dress. ‘Good afternoon, Squire Keladry. Do you remember me?’

Kel smiled at the Bazhir. ‘It’s Qasim, isn’t it? You fed my birds on the spidren hunt.’ He’d been paired with her that day and had treated her just as he had the male pages. That, and the fact that he liked her sparrows, made him a friend in Kel’s eyes.

‘Have you still the little ones?’ he asked.

‘Some. The flock got too big for me to keep them all.’ Kel’s new flock left their dishes and flew to Qasim, fluttering around him. ‘They remember you,’ she said.

He reached into a pocket and withdrew a handful of dried cherries. ‘I hoped they would,’ he admitted with a smile. The birds grabbed the treats. ‘Come.’ He led Kel into Raoul’s quarters.

The Knight Commander occupied a suite of rooms. The one connected to Kel’s was a study, complete with a desk, a number of chairs, and full bookcases. Maps of Tortall and its neighbours were mounted on three walls. Beyond the study was a dining room of sorts, though the table was covered with armour and weapons. From her tour that morning Kel knew Raoul’s bedroom was on the other side, with its dressing room and privy.

Raoul sat at his desk, stacks of paper and books spread around him. He grinned at Kel. ‘I see you remember Qasim ibn Zirhud. He’s a corporal now, in Volorin’s squad. I don’t think you were properly introduced to Flyn, though – Captain Flyndan Whiteford.’

The man who sat in a chair opposite Raoul nodded curtly. He was stocky and fair skinned, his red-brown hair cropped short on the sides and left tightly curled on top. His brown eyes were set under thin brows, over a small nose and small lips. His voice, a light baritone, carried a hint of a northern burr, all but erased by years with the King’s Own.

‘This isn’t a menagerie,’ Flyndan objected as Jump and the birds explored the study.

‘The sparrows carry their own weight, Flyn,’ said Raoul. ‘Or did you forget, they led us to the spidren nest?’ He reached down to pet Jump. ‘Her gelding’s a piece of work, too.’ To Kel he said, ‘I’m glad you stopped by. I forgot to see to your kit. Do you have an hour? I know you’ll want to sup with your friends, but we should handle some things while we can.’

Kel nodded.

‘We’ll see to personal armour tomorrow, but as you know, such things take time. Qasim will help you draw pieces to tide you over when we’re done talking,’ Raoul explained. ‘Until you get your own weapons, use company issue. You need a sword and dagger, a small axe, a shield. That’s a company shield, Qasim – I’m having a proper Goldenlake shield made, but that takes a week. Kel, which are you better at, longbow or crossbow?’

‘Long, my lord,’ Kel replied. ‘And I have a bow, sword, and dagger.’

‘Let Qasim review them,’ Raoul said. ‘He may ask you to use ours for now.’ He nodded to Qasim. ‘Standard field kit. Now, long weapons …’ He gazed at Kel thoughtfully. ‘Lances are good for tournaments, giants, and ogres, but they’re unwieldy in a scramble. Most of us carry spears—’

‘A third use halberds,’ Flyndan added.

‘I know you can use a spear,’ Raoul continued, thinking aloud. ‘Have you tried a halberd?’

Kel hesitated. Lord Wyldon had never let her use her favourite weapon, which was similar to a halberd. I won’t know if I don’t ask, she thought. ‘One moment, my lord?’ she asked. At his nod she returned to her room.

‘She’s polite enough,’ Kel heard Flyndan say.

‘What did you expect?’ Raoul was amused. ‘Wyldon trained her. He’s serious about manners.’

Kel’s wooden practice glaive and a standard glaive hung on a rack behind the connecting door. She took the edged weapon down. The five-foot-long staff was teak, the base shod in iron. The blade was eighteen inches long at the tip and broadly curved. The blue ripples under the polished surface marked it as the best steel money could buy. It was a gift from her mother and Kel’s prize.

‘I can use this, my lord,’ she said as she returned to the next room. The three men were talking. When they stopped to look at her, Flyndan’s jaw dropped. Qasim smiled.

Raoul walked over to her, eyes on the weapon. ‘May I?’ he asked, holding out his hands. Kel gave him the glaive and stood back. He spun it in a circle, as he might a staff. ‘Nice weight,’ he commented. ‘Hey, Flyn, look here.’ He extended his arm and balanced the glaive on one finger. It remained steadily horizontal. He picked up a quill and set the end on the blade’s edge. The steel cut it in half without Lord Raoul pressing the feather down.

Flyndan whistled. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s a glaive, sir,’ Kel replied. ‘The Yamanis call them naginata. Noblewomen fight with these. Since we were at court, we learned, too.’

‘Can you use it?’ Flyndan demanded. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but that looks awkward for a—’ Flyndan swallowed a word and finished with ‘youngster’.

Raoul handed the glaive to Kel and pushed back some chairs to make room. Kel began the cuts, turns, and swings of a pattern dance. She picked up the pace, until her blade was a silver blur shadowed by the longer dark blur of the staff. She finished with a rapid spin and halt, the blade stopping just short of a chair.

‘Captain Whiteford.’ She offered him the weapon. Flyndan took it in one hand and nearly dropped it; he’d been unprepared for the weight.

‘So you’ve got a long weapon,’ Raoul said calmly, resting his behind on his desk. ‘Chain mail?’

‘I will find something to fit,’ Qasim promised as Kel shook her head.

Flyndan, expressionless, returned the glaive to Kel. Qasim dusted his hands – the birds had eaten every cherry – and jerked his head towards the door. Kel bowed to Raoul and followed Qasim, her animals in their wake. She stopped to put her glaive on the rack.

‘I chose a tent and bedroll for you already,’ Qasim remarked. He pointed to a tightly wrapped bundle on Kel’s clothespress. ‘The bedroll is inside the tent. So too are the stakes and rope you will need. May I see your weapons? I need also to look at your travel gear.’

Qasim checked everything, eyes sharp as he tested edges and cleanliness. He then inspected her travel packs. ‘This is all very good,’ he said. ‘I am envious.’

Kel wasn’t sure if she ought to tell this man, however kindly disposed he was, about her anonymous benefactor. That person had sent her gifts during her page years, from exercise balls to help her strengthen her grip, to weapons. She decided to be quiet for now. There was a Yamani saying: ‘You need never unsay anything that you did not say in the first place.’

They went to the stables, then to the armoury that served the King’s Own. All of the equipment she chose passed Qasim’s painstaking inspection. He loaded her with things she did not have – tack for Hoshi, a chain mail shirt, a padded round helm, even a square leather carrier that fastened onto the back of her saddle. The men of the Own often travelled with hawks and dogs in case they had to hunt or track. Like the company’s terriers, Jump would ride in style.

Putting her gear away, Kel realized that an important moment in her life had come and gone as she chose a riding saddle and inspected shields. For the first time a warrior had thoroughly tested her knowledge of equipment, and she had passed. Qasim had rejected none of her choices. It was all the more startling to Kel because he’d done it in such a matter-of-fact, commonplace way.

Today she’d dealt with two men who took her on her own terms. Thank you, Mithros, for this gift, she thought to the god of war and law. Then she remembered that she was at her window, grinning foolishly. Shaking her head at her own folly, she got back to work.

It was nearly suppertime when Kel finished putting everything away. She had one more thing to do concerning Peachblossom. She had thought to go to Daine – the Wildmage was home, Kel knew – but she chose to talk to the gelding on her own first. She didn’t know if this was because she respected Peachblossom so much that she thought he might listen, or because she resented the idea that he would listen to Daine and not his rider. Whatever the reason, she prayed this would work. Like other palace animals, Peachblossom had grown more intelligent in human terms over the years. By this point, surely, Kel didn’t need Daine to translate.

The stable was deserted. No one was there to snicker at her. ‘Um, Peachblossom? Could I have a word?’ she asked the gelding. She hadn’t brought any treats. This was too important for bribes.

He walked to the front of the stall and, in a rare gesture of affection, thrust his long brown muzzle against Kel’s chest. He snorted at the smell of old iron left by chain mail, but didn’t move away.

Kel stroked him. ‘We’re going to be with plenty of other horses,’ she told him. ‘Hoshi’s just the start.’

Peachblossom threw up his head to eye Hoshi. The mare, quietly eating hay next door, switched her tail as if to say, Go away, boy.

‘Nobody will be able to work if you’re forever biting them,’ Kel said. ‘We could get in trouble if you start fights. They might make me leave you behind.’

Peachblossom fixed her squarely with one eye.

‘I don’t know if they will,’ she amended, scrupulously honest. ‘But it seems likely. We’ll always be together when I’m a knight – surely you know that. But consider getting along here? You don’t have to be friendly. Just don’t make trouble.’

The thought of having to leave him made her eyes sting. She loved every scarred, irritable inch of Peachblossom. She knew she would like Hoshi: she was a gift from Lord Raoul. She also seemed like a horse who could view disaster with a calm eye. But Peachblossom was the friend of Kel’s heart, her staunch ally. She hugged him fiercely around the neck.

‘Think about it,’ she told him, and left him to it.

Kel, Lalasa, Jump, and the sparrows were asleep in Kel’s old rooms when thunder broke through Kel’s dreams. Sitting up in bed, she realized what she heard was not thunder, but someone pounding on her door.

She leaped to answer it without pulling on her robe. Qasim almost rapped her nose when she yanked the door open. ‘We are called away tonight,’ he said. ‘When you are dressed, go to the stable and ready your mounts. I will pack the gear you will need.’

‘But my lord’s armour, his gear and horses – that’s my job,’ she protested.

‘Another time,’ Qasim ordered. Kel was about to close the door when he stopped her. ‘It will be bad,’ he said. ‘Haresfield village in the Royal Forest was attacked by robbers. The messengers say it is a bloody mess. Be ready.’

Is anyone ever ready for such things? Kel wondered as he left. She took a breath and concentrated on what had to be done. Lalasa was placing a basin full of water and a towel on the desk. As Kel washed her face, cleaned her teeth, and combed her hair, Lalasa put out her clothes, including a fresh breast band and loincloth, and one of the cloth pads Kel wore during her monthly bleeding. It had begun the day before.

‘I’ll need more pads,’ Kel said, fastening her breast band and hitching her shoulders until it fit properly. ‘And three days’ worth of clothes – how much do I have here?’

‘More than that,’ Lalasa said. Kel glanced at her. The maid smiled sheepishly. ‘I just wanted to give everything a last look-over,’ she explained. She briskly folded and stacked shirts, breeches, tunics, stockings, underclothes, and, in one of the shirts, more cloth pads.

‘You’d think I rip my seams every day,’ Kel grumbled, pulling on her stockings. By the time she straightened her tunic, Lalasa had put her clothes in a wicker basket.

Kel hugged the girl, who was as much friend as maid, then grabbed the basket and gave her key to Lalasa. ‘Tell Neal and the others I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,’ she said, and raced down the hall with Jump and the sparrows.

In the stable Kel and over a hundred men saddled riding horses and put lead reins on their remounts. Qasim had left a pack with Kel’s name on it for her spare clothes; she filled it from her basket and gave the pack to the supply officer when he collected them.

Qasim had put a burnoose, weapons, mail, helmet, and shield with her tack. Kel popped out of her tunic, slid into the mail shirt, then pulled the tunic over it. The men of the Own wore burnooses as cloaks. Kel fastened hers at the neck, hoping Qasim would show her how to shape a hood from it and fix it to her head when there was time.

She fastened her shield and weapons to her saddle, then donned her helmet. She was ready. Looping Hoshi’s reins around one hand and Peachblossom’s around the other, Kel walked out of the stable with her mounts and Jump. The sparrows had vanished into Jump’s carrier on Hoshi’s back.

Kel tethered her horses on the edge of the courtyard where the company assembled. The torches, blown by the wind, gave the scene a dreamlike feel as the faces of the men were first brightly lit, then shadowed. The night itself was a cool one, the wind smelling of water and the first hay cutting of the summer.

Kel watched the men unnoticed. Some were thirty or older, but most were young, single men in their twenties – married men were not allowed to join the King’s Own. A third were Bazhir. Of all the realm’s forces the King’s Own had done the best at enlisting the once-scorned Bazhir. That was Lord Raoul’s doing: he had taken the Own to live among the Bazhir for two seasons and recruited new men from their sons.

‘So who’s this youngster?’ someone asked. Hoshi’s bulk shielded Kel from the men’s view. ‘We’ve got Lerant here for standard-bearer.’

‘A squire,’ sneered a young man’s voice.

The one who’d first spoken exclaimed, ‘He’s never wanted a squire—’

Kel stroked Peachblossom’s nose. Eavesdropping had become a vice for her. She strained to hear a whispered remark, but didn’t catch what was said. Then:

‘The Girl?’ someone demanded.

‘I don’t care if she’s the Wave Walker,’ someone drawled. ‘She’s green as grass.’

‘She better not foul us up in the field,’ another voice proclaimed.

‘Don’t you saddle rats have better things to do?’ a gruff voice demanded. ‘Let’s have an inspection. Mithros witness, if I find one strap undone, heads will roll.’

‘But, Sergeant Osbern, sir, I like my head,’ someone muttered.